


darjeeling

by gudetama (elementary)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Newt Scamander, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: A short drabble of soon-to-be parents featuring Newt "foot-in-mouth" Scamander and Percival "my-clothes-don't-fit" Graves.





	darjeeling

**Author's Note:**

> Mpreg. Yes, you read that right. Please do click out if it's not your thing.
> 
> Anyway. I actually don't know what to call this because it's not a complete anything, just a snippet thing that came out of rambling with Alia (thank you for indulging me, btw). Been wanting to do something like this since they can't get pregnant in my other omegaverse. This is actually so damn sappy I wanted to wash my brain with angst afterwards. Enjoy!

It’s only during the second heat after agreeing to try for a child that Percival catches, and Newt almost passes out from overwhelming bliss at the prospect of their first baby. If his mate thought Newt stared much too often, always captivated by his omega, it’s nothing compared to now with this newfound knowledge. He can blame it on Newt’s curiosity and fascination with anything pertaining to the growth and maintenance of life, but Newt knows it’s a rare occasion of his alpha instincts rearing its head; he’s absolutely chuffed that his seed impregnated the omega he loves dearly.

And for once, giving into it feels good. Great. Twists his insides pleasantly. He wants to be the best mate that he can be so Percival will have the least amount of trouble throughout the trimesters of carrying the child.

“Where are you going?” Percival asks when Newt uncurls from around him on the couch and stands up.

“Research,” Newt vaguely replies, then he leans over with a hand on the back of the couch to rub their cheeks together and inhale once more the scent that delights him so. “I’ll be back soon, love; take it easy.”

Newt leaves a bewildered Percival and snaps on his coat, waves as he steps out the door. He heads to the local library first and skims through as many books on omega male pregnancy as he can, borrows the most relevant ones along with medical texts. The next stop is the book store where he picks up a couple cookbooks for nutritional meals as well as an encyclopedia for herbs and other greens. Determining it to be enough for now, he detours to Jacob’s and purchases Percival’s favourites then makes his way home.

He must have been gone all of two hours but he finds his mate quietly asleep on the sofa. And how is it that the sight of Percival utterly relaxed in sleep without a single worry creasing his face still makes Newt’s heart melt even after all these years together? Newt places his purchases gently on the small table and sits with his knees up by his husband on the floor. His eyes drift from the man's face down his torso to a specific part of his body, and his fingers twitch where he has his arms crossed atop the knees. There is a real chance that he might wake him but the temptation is admittedly great, and Newt leans just a bit closer, inhales the intoxicating mix of contentment and life and satisfaction.

Percival ends up waking shortly after anyway and he barely responds to Newt’s kiss in his grogginess, sighs when Newt lays his head on the man’s chest facing him and listens to his heart beat while he rubs his belly.

“Is this going to be a thing,” Percival asks, but he says it like he already knows the answer.

“Perhaps,” Newt replies anyway, and then his hand is sliding under Percival’s shirt to touch bare skin and he swears the flesh is softer than before.

It makes Percival hum and press a touch into his hand and heat stirs in Newt’s gut as he watches the man slide his gaze down to meet his eyes, thick lashes fanning over them, a slow smile stretching across his face. Newt swallows and moves his hand up further, deftly parting the shirt along the way and feels the slight shiver that runs through Percival at the exposure. He kisses what skin he can reach from his position and sets his teeth against yielding muscle, all the while gently squeezing at the man’s hips, waist, then his chest. It’s quiet save for Percival’s quickened breathing and slide of fabric against leather when he squirms, and Newt lifts his head to see properly the deepening flush in his mate’s cheeks and darkening eyes. The already lovely scent shifts into something mouth-watering.

“I’ll give you a choice, love,” Newt starts, drags a fingertip down the centre of Percival’s torso down to the naval. “Coffee, pastry, or me?”

He expects the fierce glare shot his way and the eye-roll, and grins mischievously.

“That’s hardly fair,” Percival huffs and Newt removes even his hand, the last bit of contact between them, to bring it to his own chest.

“Aren’t I the obvious choice? I’m hurt,” Newt pouts.

Percival’s hand shoots out to grab Newt by the ear and tugs a little painfully until he comes close enough for Percival to bite him under the jaw before soothing it with a lick. Then he whispers in Newt’s ear, “Don’t I deserve all three, alpha?”

And _that’s_  unfair because Percival rarely calls him alpha and Newt doesn’t need it; but used in this way, it makes him weak. He bites back a whimper. Of course, his husband knows he's had and the man rolls over, slides gracefully into Newt’s lap with strong legs on either side of his hips and pushes Newt down, down, down until his back is on the floor, eyes blinking up at a triumphant face.

“Here?” Newt says hoarsely even as something within him protests for some reason—

Percival yelps and grabs his arms when Newt suddenly sits up and gathers him close—inadvertently presses the evidence of their arousal together—so he can lift the both of them up back onto the sofa.

“Newt, what are you doing?” Percival demands as Newt settles with his back against the cushions and situates his mate more firmly on his thighs.

“You should always be as comfortable as possible,” Newt replies before he resumes his earlier exploration of Percival’s body.

“For Merlin’s sake, floor sex isn’t going to hurt anyone at this point.”

Newt glances up into annoyed eyes as fingers undo Percival’s trousers, shrugs. “Better safe than sorry.” Then he goes to kiss the base of Percival's throat, hands slipping beneath the loosened waistband to squeeze gently the firm globes of a lovely arse.

He hears something that sounds like 'insufferable' but arms wind around his shoulders and Percival slides his cheek along Newt's, nips at the shell of his ear.

Afterwards when his mate is back asleep—in bed this time; sated, full, and uncaffeinated—Newt goes into his workshop, pulls out the first of his borrowed books, and starts reading.

In the few days of their first pregnancy, Percival hasn’t had too much trouble with hormonal imbalance so far, though his chest did seem a bit sensitive earlier; otherwise his mate is still eating well without particular cravings, not exhibiting stronger emotions or sudden changes in them. He is sleeping more than usual though that could very well be the decaffeinated beverage he is forced to consume instead of his regular brand of coffee.

Perhaps it’s too early to tell. The only thing he can prepare in advance are the meals of balanced nutrition and making sure there is sufficient water for Percival to drink at any time.

The section on complications with pregnancy is a tad more daunting to read but he forces himself nonetheless. Chances are that they will get to a healer in time should any problems arise, but it can’t hurt to be too careful. Unfortunately, he feels quite shaken after reading up on those and ends up joining Percival in bed early after the evening rounds, hand over the man’s stomach and pressing up close to his back, scenting and reassuring himself that everything is okay.

Percival stirs and asks if anything is wrong and Newt shakes his head, tells him to go back to sleep. He turns to give Newt a long stare before fully facing him, and cradles Newt’s head against him, gently brushing through his hair.

Newt ends up sleeping first, surrounded by the warmth and scent of his omega.

 

 

The third time in a week that Newt asks if there’s anything he’d like to eat, Percival looks up from his papers to tell his husband once and for all _no, thank you_  and the words die on his tongue when he sees such earnestness in that cute face.

“I mean. Whatever you want, however you want it, I’d be willing to get it. You don’t need to worry whether I will think of you any different; it’s normal, they say, to have, um, cravings.”

And he ends on a desperate, uncertain note that is mirrored in his eyes and Percival’s heart goes out to his husband for trying. He thinks it’d be cruel to refuse again even if doesn’t have an appetite for a specific food. Percival asks for darjeeling tea with lemon scones which is unusual enough to appease his mate for the moment without threatening his own taste buds.

From then on, he starts seeing the signs of Newt’s _enthusiasm_ , to put it simply, for this pregnancy. If Percival had thought Newt could talk for hours about a creature, it’s nothing compared to the sheer volume of information that he spews forth on first trimester symptoms alone. From morning sickness to tender breasts, Newt proudly states that he has remedies for every single one and that Percival is in capable hands. He thinks it quite touching as he recalls each moment Newt ran off to ‘do research’ despite his notes and book drafts already laid out in front of him.

And though none of them really apply to his person—“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re able to control your own hormonal balance through willpower alone, Percy,”—it doesn’t hurt to indulge his caring husband occasionally. All things considered, it's no sacrifice on his part to be massaged and fed and pampered by a mate more than willing to do so even if that means there are hands touching and arms around his softening belly more often than not.

It’s difficult to care especially in the moments when he’s comfortable on the sofa with Newt warm against his back as he turns the page of an entertaining book, plush lips caressing his nape and rumbles of contentment vibrating from Newt’s chest through him.

The problems arise several weeks in, when a discernable bump distends the skin and muscles of his stomach and his form-flattering outfits aren’t so form-flattering anymore. His clothing fit tight and despite valiantly holding out, they get to a point beyond discomfort. With some apprehension he charms his shirt and pants to fit comfortably around the waist then stares horrified at what is reflected back at him in the mirror, fists unconsciously clenching.

“Darling, are you ready to go?” Newt asks as he pokes his head in the door.

 _No_ , Percival wants to say as he turns away from the mirror. He looks strange and the image sits uncomfortably at the back of his head. Outwardly, he takes a calming breath and straightens himself, appearing unaffected. Newt smiles at him and takes his hand to guide him out.

Before they enter the Woolworth building, Percival stops and takes another breath even as his mind races with heart-pounding scenarios because _what will they see, what will they think?_  A hand at the small of his back nudges him forward and he nearly panics as he looks up into the perplexed face of his mate. He shakes his head firmly in answer to a silent question and steps forward as confident as he can pretend to be.

The walk to his department is no different than usual save for the frequent smiles offered his way due to pheromones, more prominent now than the initial stages. No one realizes the physical changes yet thanks to his coat being large enough to hide it.

But that doesn’t last very long.

Auror Perkins is one of the first to notice, being a mother herself.

“Good morning, sir,” she greets one day before her eyes slide downwards. “Oh, it's starting to show, huh.”

It's merely a casual observation, he knows, yet it strikes a dissonant chord within him and he barely nods before moving on.

As soon as they enter his office, Percival calmly breaks away from Newt and sits at his desk, relaxing minutely behind the physical shield. His mate follows and stands next to him; their eyes meet. The silence between them is heavy with inquiry but he ignores it for now.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” Newt asks after some time and Percival is immensely grateful for his rare show of tact.

“Of course,” he replies, tilts his head up to accept a goodbye kiss and inhale that lovely scent.

It’s only after Newt closes the door that Percival removes his coat and places a hand over his own belly that looks intimidatingly large in his eyes, sighing.

“Forgive me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, rubbing over it. “Your daddy is just being foolish; I’ll be alright.”

And then the back aches begin. Nothing that can't be muted with a potion or spell but a low pressure persists that he doesn’t get accustomed to. Newt draws him baths and gives massages but it never completely goes away.

His feet swell and he can't wear his shoes anymore, has to find large, comfortable footwear that mismatch his enlarged suit.

“A _whale_ , that’s what I am,” Percival complains to his husband at night, legs in his lap, feet in his hands.

“The cutest I've seen,” Newt hums.

Percival narrows his eyes. “So you agree that I am one,” and he watches Newt freeze.

“Not—not exactly,” he stutters, not looking, fingers working harder all of a sudden. “You see, whales can be lovely regardless of their size—”

“I suggest you cease talking, Newton.”

 

 

The day Percival discovers stretch marks, Newt nearly forfeits his own life. (“They blend right in with your scars—why are you holding the knife like that, Percy?”)

In hindsight, he sees that he might have been a bit callous with the way these physical changes have been affecting his mate mentally. His mate who takes care to look a certain way and enjoys putting himself together in the mornings, yet also speaks gently to the baby in his womb, thanking the little one for growing well.

That evening, Newt lays his omega out on their bed and lavishes him with kisses, pays special attention to the marks despite Percival’s embarrassment.

“Think of these as battle scars,” Newt suggests as he strokes over each one carefully. “Your body battling itself to accommodate and protect what’s in here.” He pauses to press a final kiss to the top of his belly before laying his forehead upon the warm mound. “It’s proof of how strong you are, love, as you always have been.”

“Such a poet,” Percival huffs from above but Newt hears the slight waver in his voice.

They shift and lie side-by-side facing each other, sharing a peaceful quietness for the next few minutes as their breaths slowly synchronize. One of Newt’s hand remains a reassuring weight on Percival’s hip while his mate holds onto the other.

“Thank you,” Percival says eventually. “We’ll be alright.”

Newt smiles at the truth he sees in the man’s expression, feels his own chest tighten with love for him. “I know we will.”


End file.
